


Overwatch Ficlets

by fullmoonhermit



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, Cunnilingus, F/M, No one else is using the Ana/McCree tag?, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 07:32:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8047828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullmoonhermit/pseuds/fullmoonhermit
Summary: As implied by the title, I'll be leaving my Overwatch snips and snaps here.





	Overwatch Ficlets

Foolish as it is, the awe in his eyes when she reveals herself is flattering. Female nudity is still a marvel to him. She forgets sometimes that for all of the bloodshed he has seen, all the battlefields, he has experienced so very little.

Jesse is eighteen, after all.

Fingers stained by tobacco and gun residue explore her, clumsy with eagerness yet overly careful. He stokes her labia as if her cunt is some shy animal, then prods his fingers inside, thick and rough.

“I’ve been with girls before,” he’d bragged to her during a reconnaissance mission, frowning when she threw back her head and laughed.

She imagines him rutting on some poor girl with his pants around his ankles, high on the small triumphs of petty crime.

_“I’m no girl, Jesse.”_

_“So’s that a no, ma’am?”_

_“Fortune favors the bold, my dear.”_

When he comes to her, he is eager. Desperate to prove himself as always. They all know this. Jack. Gabriel. They push him, peel back every flimsy layer of bravado to reveal a boy in a child’s costume. A feral creature, deadly but quick to crawl to a kind master.

Ana wishes she could say she was better than them-–those brutal, ambitious men–-but she's been carved sharp by this world. She has given up so _much._

What precious little she can have? She takes.

Still, she knows something that Jack and Gabriel do not–her boy is smart. Smarter than any of them. Oh he is careful to please his keepers, never biting the hand that feeds, but in the end, survival drives him as it does any stray mutt. It is all he knows.

She can’t always say the same for herself. Thoughts of death press at her, drive her closer to the front lines than any sniper _(or mother)_ with sense should be. Some days, her shadow seems to walk before her, she the dark reflection at its feet.

But here, now, her heart pulses blood to the tip of her nipple, and Jesse meets it with a voracious mouth. Heat burns the darkness from the room.

“Do you like it, sweet one? Are you hungry for me?”

“Ravenous, ma’am,” all bluster and ill-concealed bashfulness, he noses at her breast to hide his face.

She watches him suckle from her and remembers leaking in a hot jungle at the sound of a baby crying in the distance, some child lost in warfare. Her body had been aching for her newborn even as she locked down kill after kill. Jack had to cover her in his jacket on the long trek back.

She shakes off the thought and lifts Jesse’s face for an endearingly messy kiss.

“Do you know how to please a woman, Jesse?”

“I reckon so, ma'am.”

He meets her gaze and slowly moves down until she can feel his breath on her clit. His pupils expand as he takes in the damp, musky smell of her sex.

“That’s right,” her voice drops low and coaxing, “my bright boy.”

She strokes through his hair a few times, teasing him and herself, then takes it in a tight grip as he begins to work, sucking her clit into the curl of his tongue. She reclines against the pillows, practically purring, and lifts a leg over his back. His muscles are stiff with nerves.

God help her, he is so young.

“You didn’t bring your hat. I’m disappointed.”

He makes a noise of question, sending wonderful vibrations through her pussy.

“I thought I could wear it and ride you.”

A buzzing whimper this time.

“I could swing a lasso around and… what is it you say? 'Yee-hog?'”

His laughter floats through her, shaking her leg on his sweaty shoulder.

“It’s ‘yee-haw,’” he pulls away, wiping his scruffy beard with the back of his hand as if finishing a hearty breakfast.

“Even outlaws know it’s rude to call your lady a hog in bed, Captain.”

She smiles at him, cupping his reddened cheeks.

“يا حبيبي صبي.”

He blushes though she’s sure he has no idea what it means.

She presses his face back down between her legs, gentle but firm, and sighs.

“My darling boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Probably more character study than porn. I hope you got something out of it regardless. I'll likely continue this at some point. The Arabic is supposed to mean "my darling boy" according to babelfish, but feel free to correct me if it's a terrible translation.


End file.
